


The Phoenix and the Wish

by Sparcina



Series: How Frostiron Could Have Started [27]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Confessions, Fantasizing, Fluff and Humor, Frostiron Summer Exchange 2020, Happy Ending, Infinity Gems, Kissing, M/M, Mythology References, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Resurrection, Stranded, Temporary Character Death, Top Loki (Marvel), Top Tony, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: “Aren’t you surprised I’m still alive?”Tony flexed his wings for effect, but Thor barely glanced at him before turning to wave at the raccoon. Pratchett? No, that was the guy who’d come up with the turtle carrying a planet. Racket? Something like that.Thor’s attention shifted back to him.“Oh, no. Loki told me you were stranded on Batilfila.”“And the wings? He told you about that, too?”In which Tony is alive, with some extra perks to enjoy and mysteries to solve.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Series: How Frostiron Could Have Started [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/557473
Comments: 13
Kudos: 169
Collections: FrostIron Discord 2020 Summer Exchange





	The Phoenix and the Wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SalamanderInk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalamanderInk/gifts).



> For dear Sal, who requested phoenix!Tony with shiny golden wings. I hope you like it! I did my best to keep it feel-y but fluffy/light, with the appropriate amount of smut.
> 
> Beta’d by the wonderful duo ***Slenbee & Succubus Kayko***. You’re lifesavers (that sex scene wouldn’t be the same without you)!

When Tony snapped his fingers and died, his life didn’t exactly end. The problem with death, he was beginning to realize, was that it always led the dance but never let you follow. Overall rating: 0/10, unfit for tango or waltz, would not recommend.

If death was akin to dancing, then coming back to life reminded him of drowning. Or, if he was to reference personal drama, waterboarding. He supposed it was logical that his mind went back to the true wonders of Afghanistan while he flailed his arms around and struggled to breathe. At least, he was trying to breathe, which meant that he potentially could get there. Was he alive, then? He had to be. Breathing tended to be denied to the dead, no matter the niche they occupied in their ever-expanding kingdom: vampires, zombies, ghosts, or something else entirely.

And Tony, well… he’d completely bypassed the ‘else’ zone and gone straight to The Great Unknown. As he drew in a painful gulp of air at long last—the single most amazing sensation he could ever recall— it occurred to him that, yes, the sound of blood roaring in his head wasn’t a figment of his imagination, and yes, he had a pulse.

Holy shit, he had a fucking pulse!

His heart beat way too fast, though, somewhere in the vicinity of 500 bpm. Such a heartbeat made no sense. It was worrisome. And wrong. Not that there was anything right with his current situation.

Yeah, about that…

He had wings. Like, actual wings. Which he had on his back. Where wings were supposed to be, he supposed. If human beings had wings. He had fucking wings!

“Wow.”

The lighting was subpar, but he could see well enough. His wings were large and wide, red near his back and a shimmering gold at the tips—neither an angel’s nor a demon’s, then. Not that he believed in either. When he twisted his torso to reach for one and hold it, he was surprised at how heavy it was, one of the many paradoxes of his new life, apparently, because he could hardly feel the pull in his back and physics dictated that he really should. He flexed them, forcing them open to their full length.

Okay, now he felt the pull. And he got a little distracted by the cloud of ashes he’d apparently lifted from the ground and was now inhaling instead of air. So much for getting to breathe again. There were a lot of those damn ashes. The smell of fire was omnipresent, too, now that his brain got the memo from his nose.

He brought a hand to his mouth and nose and coughed until the ashes settled back on the ground.

And then he cursed. A lot.

The freaky, quick heartbeat made a lot more sense all of a sudden. And so did the bed of ashes he’d apparently woken up in.

He made the mistake of looking down at himself. He was naked, and half-hard, but that was his usual reaction to surprises of the threatening variety, as he’d learnt during a particular moment of the invasion back in 2012. This little kink may or may not have led him to investigate Loki’s real motives behind the invasion. He’d never quite trusted the whole I-want-to-rule-over-the-world routine. Oh, the God of Mischief had played the role like a pro, but Tony was a man of power and knowledge, and could see past illusions. He’d sensed the misaligned cog in the machine Loki called his plan of domination. It had been too much—smoke and mirrors. The god had made a spectacle of every small victory, but also of the grande finale, his defeat. And then, there had been the matter of his eyes. Curiously green, once the scepter was removed from the equation.

Tony knew something about being manipulated. About failures that felt like victory. But the God of Mischief never returned for his drink, and Tony never found out if that spark of attraction was mutual or not—a hope he’d entertained despite the defenestration.

He shook his head. His body was being kind of distracting and he wasn’t talking about the semi that refused to go away.

The skin of his torso was warm and soft, unblemished, scar free. What little hair he had on Chest 2.0 was barely there at all, a lot paler than the hair on his head…Except that his hair wasn’t exactly dark brown anymore, he realized after pulling out a strand. He was a red-head now and he had not gone to the barber lately.

Pepper would be so jealous. And Morgan…

His heart lurched, stopped for half a second, and resumed hammering more than 500 times per second.

His surroundings eventually registered.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He was in a fucking cave, again. It made little sense. Last he checked, the Infinity Stones were supposed to grant wishes, not pick up on his subconscious fears and build them up in the real world.

“Hello?”

If there was an asshole or a dragon in this cave, he’d rather know right away. He shot to his feet and was only half-surprised not to fall back on his ass with the added complication to his balance. It must be instinctive or some shit. He flexed his wings again and felt a rush of wind as his whole body lifted a few inches above ground. A yelp tumbled from his lips but, thankfully, there was no asshole or dragon to mock him.

Or a ceiling on which to crack his skull open.

“Fri?”

There was no answer beside an added layer to this ominous silence. Not that he’d expected anything else. But a man can always hope.

He lifted his hands to his face and frowned. Just like his chest, they were smooth. They lacked any of the small scars and calluses he’d collected over the decades. There was also no trace of the glove or the stones. He snapped his fingers, figuring he had nothing to lose now that he was alive again. And winged.

Rhodey was going to regret ever claiming that Tony was a bad wingman.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said out loud.

The cave remained silent.

*

Getting back to Earth wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. It wasn’t even a walk at all. First off, he’d had to find out where he was in order to plot a course, and the cave and its surroundings had not exactly been brimming with abandoned vessels of an advanced alien race. There was barely any food, for fuck’s sake. Thankfully, it turned out that getting a second shot at life —with a pair of shiny wings to boot—meant he could go a whole week before going hungry, and just as long without sleeping, to no major detriment to his health. Bruce would be pleased as punch, he could tell.

*

After a lot of swearing and some impossible things happening, he managed to take off on a Frankensteined ship running on cold, of all things. It took a little longer than two months to reach Earth and, by then, he’d more or less learned to use those wings like they were designed. He got very few bruises for his efforts and patted himself on the back for it. Must be all that time he’d spent in the suit panning out at last.

New York looked… strangely the same, for all that he felt deeply ‘other’ himself. Perhaps it was the wings. They were just so shiny. And big. He had so much fun showing them off. He did it discreetly, of course—a paradox only he could pull off. He wasn’t quite ready for the world to know about the new him just yet. Unless it was the other way around.

People’s reactions were… interesting.

“You’re a what?” (Rhodey, sputtering on a video call. He was married and everything, now. Tony was so proud of him. He took all the credit, of course.)

“You’ve always liked shiny things.” (Natasha, getting tanned on a beach somewhere in South America, absolutely unimpressed by the impressive 2.3 meters of his wings. She was naked except for a very small and flattering bikini, and of course, the required blades and guns and their holsters. And a new tattoo that he didn’t get to study as much as he would have liked.

“How the hell?” (Fury. The glorious bastard had spat his coffee in shock, which was quite flattering, if Tony said so himself. Hanging up on him mid-shout was just a bonus.)

Pepper cried and screamed at him in the same breath. Morgan launched herself at him and did her best attempt to mimic an octopus. A very cute octopus.

“Will I get wings, too?”

“I’m afraid not,” Tony said, voice a little unsteady. He hugged his daughter tighter. His eyes burnt. He’d been so sure he’d never see her again. “I don’t even know how I got mine.”

“Then you can’t be sure I won’t have wings, too.”

Pride swelled in his chest. He kissed her on the nose and felt a flutter of affection at the joy warming up her eyes.

“How do burgers sound?”

He hadn’t had fast food in a lifetime. An accurate statement, which he kept for himself, because Pepper’s eyes were rimmed red, and Morgan kept glancing in between the two of them with a worried frown. Tony wanted to tell them both that he was fine. That everything would be. But he’d learned the hard way that he was shit at the whole prediction business.

*

The first time Thor visited, a week later, Tony almost had a heart attack.

“Have you seen my brother? He should have preceded me here.”

Tony had several quips ready, but Thor’s casual question threw him off the loop big time.

“Loki is alive?”

“Oh, you know my brother,” Thor said in what he probably thought was his indoor voice, but really was his outdoor one. “He can’t stay away for long.”

The small matter of Loki being alive and well, when Tony had heard rumors about Thanos choking him to death, was par for the course, he supposed. He’d done that several times in the past. Playing dead. The God of mischief was one resistant cockroach, and Tony wasn’t about to say it out loud—and least of all to Thor—but he felt somewhat… relieved. Loki was just too interesting to die.

And speaking of interesting things…

“Aren’t you surprised I’m still alive?”

He flexed his wings for effect, but Thor barely glanced at him before turning to wave at the raccoon. Pratchett? No, that was the guy who’d come up with the turtle carrying a planet. Racket? Something like that.

Thor’s attention returned to him.

“Oh, no. Loki told me you were stranded on Batilfila.”

Tony’s step faltered. Questions were pressing against his temples like manic rock fans crowding the front of the stage and he didn’t know where to start. What he did know was that Thor’s lack of reaction about his gorgeous golden wings hurt him. Okay, hurt his pride.

“And the wings? He told you about that, too?”

Thor shrugged. “It's not unusual.”

What exactly wasn’t unusual? People coming back to life? People coming back to life with flashy wings that actually worked? Loki making unbelievable claims that somehow turned out to be true? Tony’s head was spinning with an overflow of theories, each more ridiculous than the last. In the eye of the storm, two facts stood out:

1) Loki was alive;

2) Loki had known that Tony was, too.

How?

Thor dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “If you see him, will you tell him I’m looking for him?”

“Sure, Point Break.”

Watching Thor enter the communal area, Tony pinched himself. It hurt. Pulling at his feathers hurt even worse. So, dreaming was out. Which was good. And bad.

He went down to his lab. It had remained untouched while he was gone. He’d barely spent any time there since he’d returned, but to be fair, he’d been busy reacquainting himself with life and modern luxuries. Like fucking apple juice. Burgers. A hot shower. The experience didn’t rate as high anymore with the wings—they really weighed a ton, especially soaked through—but it still felt heavenly after weeks aboard a musty, rusty ship.

But he’d had hugs and words with everyone who mattered. He’d have loved nothing more than to deliver Thor’s message to Loki, but the guy wasn’t exactly reachable by phone.

So, Tony did the next best thing.

“Set the mood, baby girl.”

AC/DC blasted through the speakers.

*

He spent the next thirty-five hours in his lab taking the cold engine apart. The technology was intriguing and, now that this wondrous piece of engineering wasn’t necessary to carry him through the stars, he could dissect it to his heart’s content.

The lab was kept at a warm temperature—warmer than he’d liked it, back in Life 1.0. Pepper remarked on it somewhere during the twenty-second hour, and only looked slightly worried when Tony shrugged it off.

“I just feel cold, is all.”

Of course, Friday had long made several full scans of him. His body temperature readings were off the chart, too cold, like hypothermia cold, but so far, he felt amazing, even energized, and when he mentioned the, hello, bed of ashes he’d first awoken on, Pepper didn’t insist too much. They were all still adjusting to the fact that he walked among the living—and how that had come to be. Even Rhodey, who’d seen him in his strangest days, couldn’t help but stare every single time they saw each other.

Okay, so what if he was always a little cold and shivery nowadays? He could fly. He was alive. He knew that Pepper was merely concerned about him, and how Morgan would react to her father dying—again. They’d concocted a very clever story to explain his long absence. Nothing as finite as death.

Elbows deep into the extraordinary alien engine, Tony wondered if the reason he felt cold was due to his new, hybrid biology, or something else he hadn’t yet figured out.

*

He dreamed every night and it was always the same dream. A flurry of sensations and images that persisted long after he woke all tangled up in the sheets, wings flexing out and curling around him in what he’d come to recognize as an instinctive defense mechanism.

The dream wasn’t exactly a nightmare, despite the dramatic setting. In it, he felt… not quite alone. The power of the stones raced through his body and he felt hot. He’d felt hot then, too.

Not just a dream, then.

The memory was a mosaic of impressions that didn’t quite fit. Unsurprising, giving the toll the stones had taken on his body. But there was no fear—only a will so strong he could feel nothing else beside a measure of comfort he couldn’t explain. And this comfort, somehow, was linked to cold in his mind. A cold that wasn’t quite freezing, a presence unseen.

A hand on his shoulder.

*

The fourth day after Thor’s arrival at the compound, Tony found Loki in his room. His bedroom, out of all places. The God of Mischief was sitting at the foot of his bed, and managed to appear both a little stiff and utterly relaxed.

Tony had zero clue when he’d learned to read him so well.

“I see you’ve made it back,” Loki said, and turned to meet his eyes.

Green eyes. Tony had not expected anything else, of course. The Mind Stone was long gone, and without it, the scepter held little power. That being said, he hadn’t exactly anticipated that their next meeting would happen in such a setting. Mind you, he wasn’t complaining; more than one fantasy involving the God of Mischief started this way. There tended to be less clothes, though. And more words being exchanged—of the NSFW variety.

For now, they watched each other in silence.

Loki’s hair was several inches longer than Tony remembered. He was dressed a lot more casually, too, but in an outfit that might have blended in a couple centuries ago. He looked… threatening, still, with that piercing gaze of his, and the feral cast of his features, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything more.

Tony closed the door and locked it.

“Yeah, I’m sort of surprised myself. And very curious as to how you knew I was still alive, and where.”

“I’m a God.”

“You’re good at misdirecting, I’ll give you that.”

Those green eyes flashed with annoyance. There was something else lurking in their depths, an emotion a lot more intense. Tony felt strangely humbled.

“You know nothing.”

“Hey there, I take offense at that.” Tony kept his tone light. The banter was familiar, at least. “I’m no Jon Snow.”

“But you’re a fool.”

That hit a nerve. Loki might be someone he found attractive and interesting, but the guy knew him nowhere near enough to insult his intelligence. “Excuse me?”

“Stark.” Suddenly, Loki was right into his personal space. “What were you wishing for, when you harnessed the stones’ power?”

“What do you think? For Thanos to be dead. For the ones I love to live. For peace.”

“You got some time alone on Batilfila.”

Tony felt like he’d just been slapped, and not in the fun way. “I didn’t wish for that kind of peace.”

“Sometimes, you barely know what your true desires are.”

Now that wasn’t fair. “Listen, Lokitty, you may not be clear on what you want, but I damn well know what I—”

“How are you still alive, then?”

Loki didn’t grab him by the throat, but he backed him into the nearest wall and glared down at him, nostrils flaring and long fingers twitching millimetres from Tony’s jacket.

“Did you wish to survive?”

“Well, I was kind of busy—”

“Did you?!”

“No, okay!” Tony tried to push the god back, but Loki didn’t move an inch. He fisted both hands in his frilly white shirt instead. It was soft, unlike either of their tones. “I didn’t care. Why does it matter?”

“I wished for you to survive!”

Tony’s grip went slack. The presence. The cold. Thor had mentioned… “You—It was you.”

Loki’s eyes softened.

“Yes, it was me who touched you when you commanded the stones. I couldn’t take much of the burden myself, because you were the one wearing the glove, but I took enough from you to warrant the stones’ attention and get myself a wish.”

“And you…” Tony was at a loss for words. His legs seized and only Loki’s solid body against his own—when had that happened?—kept him upright. “You wished for me to live?”

“Not quite.”

The corner of Loki’s lips curled up in a wicked smile. It was a little mean, dark at the edges, but smooth and sensual, a little secretive, and the mosaic of intentions displayed thus made quick work of rerouting his blood to his nether regions. 

“I wished for you not to die,” Loki said.

“Same difference?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Tony realized he’d spoken too fast. The wings. The freakin’ wings. Shiny and golden. Precious in a way that far superseded a fortune of quadrillions. And the ashes he’d woken in, the cradle that had held his new body, untanned and unmarred… Like the mythologic—

Oh shit. The full implication hit him with the force of an explosion. But not your run-of-the-mill chemical explosion—more like a dynamiting of the heart from the inside out, a seism rated 3.000 on the Richter Scale. His heart leapt into his throat and stayed there, frantic, as if to adjust its beating to reflect on this new reality. The words trickled to the front of his mind slowly. His face felt numb. “Don’t tell me I—”

“Yes, you,” was all Loki said, because he was an asshole.

But that asshole was now kissing him within an inch of his life and, since it looked like Tony couldn’t quite die anymore, that was quite the revelation. He felt himself melt under that onslaught, because that was what it was: an attack, a claim, a devouring of his very soul. Loki’s mouth was pure sin as it coaxed his open, a perfect pressure when one had been missing before.

“I—I never thought I’d—”

“You’ve intrigued me from the start, even when I was otherwise occupied.”

“You and I—Ah.”

Tony gasped. Loki was nuzzling at his neck, scraping his teeth over his pulse point, and okay, the intimate knowledge that the god was so much stronger than him that, should he bite down a little too hard, he might sever his artery, brought forth a thrill of danger. Fantasies mingled into his mind, the frames all green, the painting a mishmash of two bodies and settings superposed in one glorious picture of lust. He fought hard to get back on track while Loki did his best to mark the pale skin of his throat, but he had to wonder if being reborn meant that he was technically a virgin, and that… that didn’t help at all.

He sagged against the wall with a low moan. All the hair on his skin stood on end—and so did all the feathers, to Loki’s bemused delight.

“We—We never really were enemies,” Tony eventually managed.

“Not really,” Loki agreed in a purr.

Tony got one good look at the raw want in his eyes and wanted to ravish him. Or be ravished. He really wouldn’t be opposed to both. Or neither. Something new, which involved Loki naked and that mouth back on him somewhere.

But.

He might be reborn, but he still had manners inherited from Life 1.0. With an inward sigh, he opened his mouth to suggest they have that drink and perhaps something to eat. Talk, a bit.

But Loki was three steps ahead. “If you’re not keen on being undressed and fucked in the very near future, I’d very much appreciate to know it now.”

Tony blinked. “Near future?” Time was so flimsy a concept right now. “Like… 5 minutes from now?”

A hand trailed down his torso and stopped at the waistband of his pants, casually suggestive.

“Less, if you stop talking.”

“As long as you get undressed in the process, I’m backing that plan. Want me to fly us to the bed?”

Needless to say, it wasn’t one of his best ideas. In his state of arousal, with a God of Mischief intent to distract him with both mouth and fingers, it was a miracle he didn’t dive on the floor. Loki was the exact opposite of helpful, but Tony wouldn’t expect any less from the God of Mischief.

As soon as they landed on the bed, Loki pushed him on his back and straddled him. With his eyes trained on Tony’s face, he ran a finger along a wingtip.

“Are they erogenous?”

Tony shuddered. “I’m not sure if that’s the word I’d use,” he said faintly. This was, after all, a new part of his body.

“Let’s find out, then.”

And that was how Tony ended up naked as the day he was reborn, with both wings outstretched, and a god pushing his cock past his lips. Tony moaned around the girth, his own dick throbbing. Loki began to fuck his mouth, not deep enough to choke him, but deep enough to make him work for it, and he didn’t falter in his thrusts, not even when Tony thrashed under him because he was sucking at the tip of a particularly sensitive feather.

For a while, Tony lay there and took it, but his cock was begging for attention, and Loki was completely ignoring it.

“L-Loki, please.”

Tony swallowed hard, a dozen more prayers at the tip of his tongue. The god looked down at him, eyes heavy-lidded, one hand stroking at his own cock slick with Tony’s saliva. He looked in control. Curious. Dangerous. Tony tried to reach for his own straining erection, but Loki slapped his hand away.

“F-Fuck!”

He was about to string a whole sentence together when Loki blindsided him completely—by sinking down onto his cock in a single, smooth glide.

Tony’s back arched off the bed. With a knowing chuckle, Loki grabbed him by the back of the head to kiss him again. Tony closed his eyes. He could feel Loki’s ass pulsing around him, velvety and smooth, deliciously tight. It was cool and unlike anything he’d felt before, and he was already addicted. When he reached for Loki’s hips and held him there, no hand batted his own away, this time.

He wasn’t going to last and he couldn’t even tell if it was because the sensations were new to this body. Talking might help. Or not. He did like the sound of his own voice.

“What—Fuck, Loki, you feel so—Tell me.”

“You can still talk?” The annoyance in Loki’s tone was laced with amusement.

Tony discovered that he could be too turned on to roll his eyes. “I—Yes, so tell me. Tell me, God, what was it that I…” He trailed off. The sight of Loki bouncing on his cock with such purpose, such urgency, was almost too much to bear. His cock twitched in the silky sheath of the god’s ass. “What did I do to intrigue you—ah!—so much that—”

“Your wits, although I’d very much like to gag you on occasion.”

Loki was breathing a little harder now, at least.

“Your banter, so readily offered. Not quite flyting, but I do appreciate the sharpness of your tongue.”

Tony grunted as Loki squeezed his ass around him. It really wasn’t fair, how the god could string whole sentences together while he kept flirting with the edge so near. He took as deep a breath as he could, and then darted out his tongue to lick at his lips, drawing Loki’s eyes to his mouth.

“Perhaps you should have fucked  _ me  _ instead,” he drawled. “Made sure I couldn’t walk for days.”

It was incredibly satisfying to watch Loki’s hips stutter, if only for a second. And then the god gave a low, animalistic grunt, and started fucking himself on Tony’s cock faster than before. For Tony, it was heaven and hell wrapped up into one: that velvety ass felt glorious around his cock, and the sound of his buttocks slapping against his own crotch was music to his ears, but he was now pinned to the mattress, which prevented him from thrusting up. Although… There was something to be said about restraints. 

“A penny for your thoughts, Stark?” Loki panted.

A single drop of sweat beaded down his brow. He looked very much like the chaos he personified, like the end to a beginning, and yet he was the one who’d made sure that Tony would get as many fresh starts as he could need.

Tony hadn’t even thanked him. He tried to find the words, but air had become something of a rarity. 

“L-Loki…”

He grabbed a handful of hair blindly and got to express his thanks with Loki’s tongue in his mouth. It wasn’t very comprehensible. And it didn’t matter; the god tensed abruptly and spilled his seed with a breathy ‘Stark!’.

Tony hadn’t realized he’d missed the sensation of his cock being milked in this precise fashion until Loki’s ass spasmed around him. He tugged harder at Loki’s hair. A surprised cry was torn from his throat as his own orgasm crashed down on him. The edges of his vision dimmed, softened by a soft, cloudy white. He felt like he was floating in water. Definitely not drowning this time.

Loki gripped the hand buried in his hair and uncurled the fingers one by one. Tony’s eyelids fluttered open.

“That…” He heaved out a ragged chuckle. “That was amazing. If you’re not in a hurry or anything, my proposition still stands.”

“I don’t think you should concern yourself unduly with your gait… Even if I really take my pleasure from you.”

Tony shivered at the implication. There was no doubt in his mind that after Loki was done with him, he would have trouble  _ crawling.  _

His cock made a valiant effort to rise to the challenge—and  _ voilà _ , he was fully hard again.

“Ah, the perks of youth,” he said smugly.

Loki swatted him across the chest before reaching out to caress a few golden feathers. They shimmered brightly, and Tony wondered if the hue changed with his mood. Or a shift in neurotransmitters.

“I’m not overly concerned about that,” he confessed, relaxed and yet very aroused. He wanted  _ more _ . “Or anything else, to be honest.”

Loki nipped at his earlobe. “Well, you can fly now.”

Yeah, Tony thought as the god rolled off to one side and set about getting him ready for his first time, version 2.0. 

Everything was going to be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> [This wonderful art piece by hello-shellhead](https://hello-shellhead.tumblr.com/post/172632912091/i-set-him-on-fire-haha-thank-you-for-all-your) has blown my mind (warning for hot!Tony).


End file.
